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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23236408">Whip the Hurt Away</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviSqueaks/pseuds/LeviSqueaks'>LeviSqueaks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo, Commission work, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Femme Domme, Flogging, Hearing aids, POV Female Character, Shibari, Wartenberg Wheel, deer hide flogger, hearing loss square, sensory deprivition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:34:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23236408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviSqueaks/pseuds/LeviSqueaks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint had been standoffish since Loki’s claws had been pulled from his head. Natasha understood, She knew what it meant to be controlled, to have your mind betray you as someone else ripped it from you. She understood what it meant to be helpless, to feel powerless to the wrong people. But Clint had been the one to rescue her from that. Clint had been the one to pick up the pieces. </p><p>He had been the one to save her. </p><p>Now it was time for her to return the favor, if only for a night.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Whip the Hurt Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/shealynn88/gifts">shealynn88</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clint had been standoffish since Loki’s claws had been pulled from his head. Natasha understood, She knew what it meant to be controlled, to have your mind betray you as someone else ripped it from you. She understood what it meant to be helpless, to feel powerless to the wrong people. But Clint had been the one to rescue her from that. Clint had been the one to pick up the pieces. </p><p>He had been the one to save her. </p><p>So, as they sat around the tower with the rest of the team, she watched him sit apart from the team. Clint was settled up in his “nest”. The platform that Tony had set up without comment that had his own lovesac and blankets away from the couches. She settled back in her chair and looked out across the team that had become her family. </p><p>Steve sat riveted, watching the screen with the stillness of a hunter, studying prey. Thor was sprawled out, taking up too much room with a drink resting on his stomach, talking to Sam about sports. Bruce was curled in one corner of the couch, a cup of steaming tea in hand as he read a book and ignored the action movie. </p><p>Tony was settled in the L of the sectional, Peter sprawled over him with his head on Tony’s shoulder as they babbled incessantly over the plot of the movie and something about a director… and electronics? Listening to them was enough to give her a migraine so she tuned them back out. Wanda and Vision were between the toddlers and Bruce, holding hands and murmuring something to each other she couldn’t make out. </p><p>And then there was Natasha. She was sitting in her chair, a tablet on her lap as she finished up a report, making sure to note the details thoroughly even as she mindlessly surveyed the tower and glanced back up at Clint. </p><p>Before the Chitauri, before Loki, Clint would have been down on the couches, getting into the conversation with Tony and Peter. Or maybe bugging Bruce or her about some topic she couldn’t care less about but would discuss just to see him smile. He would be scarfing pizza and trading insults. Now he sat, curled in his nest, distant and wary, eyes scanning the room, ready for an attack. </p><p>Nat sent the report and sighed, standing and cracking her neck and shoulders as she stalked over to the Nest and easily scaled the ladder to settle beside him. She sank into the firm pillows and smiled as Clint shifted to settle his head on her lap. It was second nature, easy as breathing, to card her fingers through his blonde hair. They had been this for so long, they didn’t even need words. </p><p>She could see it now, how badly he needed to set down the caution and responsibility. She could see how wound tight he was in the firm line of his shoulders and the tightness of his jaw. She stroked a hand slowly down his side. “Come along, nebol'shoy.” She beckoned him gently and drew him away from the common room. </p><p>Tony had seen them but surprisingly refrained from commenting as they disappeared into the elevator to travel to Natasha’s rooms. When the doors whispered shut, Natasha reached up to grip Clint’s chin and force his eyes down to look at her lips. “When we get to my rooms, I want you to undress for me, little Dove. She said calmly and watched his expression shift and tighten impassively. </p><p>Clint held out longer than she expected him to. He tensed so hard, pulled taut by his own demons until, on a breath, he eased and nodded once. Natasha rewarded him with a gentle stroke of fingers across his cheek and she quirked her lips at him in approval. The doors hissed open and he preceded her down the hall to her door. Natasha held back and waited, giving Clint enough time to do what she had ordered before she stalked after him. </p><p>Clint was nothing if not efficient so when she entered her room and locked the door behind her, she found him naked and sitting on the bed. There were still lines of tension knotting muscles in his arms. They lessened however as she walked past him, letting a manicured hand stroke across his chest as she made her way toward her closet. Emerging a few minutes later, a bag in hand, her lips curled into a smile to find him kneeling in the middle of the floor, blue eyes watching as she approached. </p><p>They didn’t need words, not after so many years together. She knew what he needed without him having to find the words to ask. She stepped forward, the rustle of her tailored pants as they brushed his knee loud in the silence of the room. He sighed and leaned forward, his forehead resting against her hip and she let her hand fall to play with the short strands of his hair, nails scraping across his scalp. </p><p>The sat like that, long minutes passing as he soaked up her strength and presence. When his shoulders relaxed, and the tension melted away, she reached down gently with both hands to click his hearing aids off and gently pull them free of his ears. He settled back as she deposited them on her bedside table, and she turned to him before raising a single eyebrow in query. </p><p>He shook his head at her and it made her heart swell with affection. She brought her hand up to her chin and moved her fingers, ‘color?’</p><p>His blue eyes studied her carefully, blonde hair too short to fall into his eyes and curtain his expression though he seemed to want it very badly at that moment. His hand came up and cycled through his colors, ‘red’, a single finger pulling down from his chin, ‘yellow’ his fist shaking a y from left to right, ‘green’ fingers fluidly shifting to a g which he twisted forward from his shoulder. </p><p>Natasha nodded, expecting it. He didn’t use others unless pressured into it. The light system was familiar, safe. She signed again, ‘color?’<br/>
Clint took a deep breath and exhaled, expression locked down into a tense mask before he signed it to her. ‘Green.’ </p><p>~~~</p><p>The actual ropework took over an hour due to Natasha’s own insistence of perfection. She lost herself in it after a moment, and once the first knot was settled against his skin, Clint melted into a pliable mass. The weaving took skill and attention to detail. The shift and loop of the rope, sliding loudly against skin in the silence of the room. It was only occasionally overridden by a grunt or whimper from Clint. She settled into the work as she looped and knotted ropes up both of his arms, and then his thighs; crossing and weaving them around his cock and up his torso. She ignored his arousal, the whimpers that fell from his lips as she crossed the rope intricately across his chest, knotting it down his spine. </p><p>When Natasha finally stepped back to survey the rope linking and binding each bit of his body, she smiled briefly, eyes lightening in pleasure. Clint’s eyes were lidded as he tilted his head back to look at her and she let the smile spread a little wider across her face, trying not to think of how foreign it still felt. She covered it up with a quick sign to him, fingers twirling to snap down to her thumb in front of her face, ‘pretty boy.’ </p><p>Clint flushed and squirmed in place, eyes falling as he huffed a laugh then looked back up to her. She let him have those few minutes, waited patiently until he was focused on her again, ‘color?’</p><p>‘Green,’ he signed to her again and she nodded before going to the bed and pulling out a wartenberg wheel and a flogger. The wheel’s silver pins shone in the light from the lamp and it dragged a gasp from him, eyes riveted on it. She knew how much he loved and hated the sensation of it pricking down his body. Hated how it tensed and seized his muscles before forcing them to relax when she pulled it away. </p><p>She approached him, her heeled foot lifting to settle against his chest, eyes crinkling in amusement as he grunted and shifted to lay back on the carpet under her foot. She felt a perverse sense of pleasure at that, watching this powerful man lay back so readily for her to pin down. Then, something seemed to snap in Clint that sent pleasure and pride racing through her. </p><p>"Man… this is kinda like that time I was taken hostage in Cape Verde and tied up except like...sexy instead of terrifying!" Natasha lifted a single eyebrow in response and he grinned up at her, expression wide and relaxed and she flicked the wartenberg wheel in her hand so it spun slowly while she crouched, “okay uh… so kinda 50/50,” Clint managed. </p><p>Natasha ran the wheel quickly up one stretch of thigh that wasn’t impeded by ropes and he arched up, shouting as his hands seized in the carpet. “FUCK!” She smirked at his response and followed up on the opposite hip, skipping over ropes to tease down bare flesh as he tried to curl away from it. Natasha reached out to slap his thigh harshly twice, the sting blooming red across pale skin as his eyes met hers. She brought both hands up, the wheel left on his thigh and she signed to him, ‘be still’</p><p>Clint panted and flashed a grin. “You just move me, Nat, what can I say?” She stared at him, appraising and watched as he squirmed just slightly in her silence before she repeated the sign then added, ‘or I will make you.’</p><p>Clint licked his lips but settled back and signed ‘green’ at her again. She picked up the wheel and quick as a flash, ran it up his stomach and ribs earning another high shout though he didn’t squirm away from her. She continued, teasing it across his chest, down his calves, across the bottoms of his feet to earn shouts and curses before straddling his thighs and racing it firmly across the underside of his cock as he screamed and arched away. </p><p>She tossed it aside and bent to lick a path up his cock, soothing it with the hot, wet heat of her mouth. She watched his face screw up in pleasure and agony as she reached for the flogger. It was heavy, made of deer hide and expertly crafted. She ran the butter soft leather through her hands and then shifted down, settling on the delicate bones of his ankles and trapping him in place before letting the leather arch and fall firmly across his thighs. </p><p>“Fuck! Natasha… Christ you’re killing me,” Clint babbled, as she let the flogger fall again, and then a third time, building up a rhythm with the firm, strikes. She hit unerringly across his thighs blooming the skin to pink, then red. He was keening and squirming beneath her as she got close to his cock before shifting her aim up to get arms and chest. She was determined to have him sobbing before she gave him relief. </p><p>She didn’t wait long, watching as his chest heaved and he sobbed before letting two strikes fall where he needed them. The first taste of leather to cock had him screaming. She caught his attention and signed to him, ‘cum’, then hit him again. The second strike across sensitive skin arched his back as he screamed and came, body trembling beneath her as she dropped the flogger and shifted up and forward, kissing him firmly as she stroked him through the orgasm, milking him for all that he could give her. </p><p>He lay panting beneath her, undone and boneless and she ran her fingers down to scoop up his seed and feed it to him, smiling lightly as his tongue teased out to catch all of it from fingers. She untied him, the reverse quick and effortless before she dragged him up and shuffled him to bed. “Sleep, nebol'shoy,” she bade him softly and kissed his cheek as eyes fluttered shut.</p>
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